


Further Assistance

by LearnedFoot



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dildos, Iron Man Suit Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, Voyeurism, inappropriate use of technology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 02:05:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19075279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/pseuds/LearnedFoot
Summary: Besides, it would be unethical not to tell Peter what he saw, right? He’s pretty sure that would violate some sort of boundary. And if the kid wants to go down the path of creative experimentation, it’s kind of Tony’s duty to make sure he does it safely. He basicallyhasto help.





	Further Assistance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



> I wrote you this thing, because your request tags were inspiring. I hope you like it. Also, not sure if you’re cool with (light) nonconsensual voyeurism. If not, you (or anyone else) can skip to the first scene break. After that, everyone is decidedly aware and on board. 
> 
> The porn logic is strong with the tech in this one. Just…roll with it, please. (Or don’t. But, don’t say you weren’t warned.)
> 
> This is Endgame agnostic. Tony is alive. He and Pepper are not together. Fill in the rest as you will.

When Peter turned eighteen, he’d asked Tony to shut down the Baby Monitor Protocol, on the logic that it was unfair, infantilizing, and “frankly, Mr. Stark, just a little bit creepy. Wait, sorry, I didn’t mean that. Actually, yes, I did. But I’m not saying _you’re_ creepy. Just like, the protocol. Um, I’m going to stop talking now.”

The kid had a point, so Tony did shut it down. Most of it. All of it except the protocol in the Iron Spider. Because, listen, they had decided Peter would save that one for the big occasions. The alien invasions and super-scientists gone mad. The above friendly-neighborhood-paygrade gigs. So, yes, Tony wants to know if and why the kid’s breaking it out. Sue him. It’s not infantilizing, it just makes sense. He’d done the same thing for Pepper’s armor up until she finally left him for good. (Okay, lie. That’s still there, too, he just never expects her to use it again.)

Point is, his decision to keep the monitors was completely reasonable, logical, and not the least bit creepy, right up until this very moment. Because, yeah. Turns out Peter has ideas about how to use the armor that have nothing to do with saving the world, and a lot to do with fucking himself with the waldoes. Which—bonus points to Peter for creativity. Extra bonus points for waiting until he thought there was no way for Tony to know.

Negative points to himself for not immediately turning the image off. But he’s kind of transfixed.

It’s not like he can actually see _Peter_. Just a…3D projection of the suit, hovering in the middle of the lab in all its bent-over, thrusting-waldo glory. And, okay, that’s not better. Well, it’s a little better. But only on a scale of “bad” to “would be even worse,” so it doesn’t really count. Tony’s self-aware enough to realize that. It looks like Peter’s clutching at something to keep himself steady. Probably a bedpost. He must be in his dorm room, which means he’s safe.

And in case Tony had any remaining doubt about exactly what’s happening, he _can_ hear Peter, because somehow audio had made sense as a safety precaution. In case Peter was yelling for help or whatever. He is not yelling for help right now. He’s not yelling anything. He’s letting off a stream of curses— _oh shit, oh fuck, fuck yes_ —low and throaty, voice raspy between ragged breaths.

So, definitely just some regular freshmen-year sexual experimentation with a slightly super-powered sex toy. (A super-powered sex toy _Tony_ built, and if that turns him on a little, he’s not going to look at it too closely.) Time to shut the image down, then. And he’s going to. His mouth is forming the word “F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” it really is.

But that’s the exact moment Peter pants out, “Please, _Mr. Stark_ , _harder_ ,” and the waldo starts moving faster, beating into him with a speed that would leave Tony worried if he didn’t know about Peter’s powers. He keeps moaning Tony’s name, interspersed with _yes_ , and _please_ , and _sir_ , and _fuck_.

The sound of it fills the lab. It runs through Tony’s body, burning in his veins. His cock goes hard, painful and tight in his pants. Before he can have the internal battle about how much worse it would be if he started jerking off to this—a lot worse, he’s pretty sure—it’s over: Peter lets out an unmistakable yell, followed by a full-body shudder, clear even just through the projection of the suit. The waldoes slow, then stop, and that’s when Tony finally gathers himself enough to turn the projection off.

But not before he hears a final, whispered, “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

***

Tony is well and truly fucked.

It’s not that he had no idea the kid has a thing for him. He’s not stupid, and while Peter has many skills, subtlety is not one of them. And it’s not even that he hadn’t noticed the feeling is mutual. He’d definitely noticed. How could he not? He’s the one who has to put up with the deeply inappropriate dreams, waking up achingly hard, as if he weren’t a middle aged man whose subconscious should know better by now.

But he’d written it off as the inevitable attraction any person would have to a hot young thing who stares at them with hero worship in their eyes, combined with the lingering trauma of losing that hot young thing, feeling like the entire world had collapsed in on itself, fighting the universe to get him back, and—

And this is the part where Tony normally stops examining it and goes back to reminding himself that it doesn’t matter, because Peter’s a teenager, and that way lies madness. He’d been hoping that Peter attending MIT would be good for both of them. Peter would have space and a whole campus full of people to help him get over his misaimed crush. And Tony would—whatever. Tony would deal.  

Except now Tony has seen _that_ , and he can’t get it out of his head. He can’t deal.

Besides, it would be unethical _not_ to tell Peter what he saw, right? He’s pretty sure that would violate some sort of boundary. And if the kid wants to go down the path of creative experimentation, it’s kind of Tony’s duty to make sure he does it safely. He seems to have survived the waldoes okay, but that’s not exactly what they’re made for. Things could go wrong.

He basically _has_ to help.

***

Tony works on a few things. He packs them. He sends them via the most secure mail available.

He adds a note: _How about you let me help out next time?_

This is probably a very bad idea. He can’t stop himself.

(In retrospect, his just-ignore-it plan had probably been doomed to failure from the beginning. At least you can’t say he didn’t try.)

***

The next day, his phone lights up. Call from Peter Parker. Good thing Tony’s in his lab. Alone. Because he cleared his entire day to wait for this call.

“Ah, Mr. Parker,” he says with forced casualness as he picks up. “Can I help you?”

He smiles to himself as Peter sputters on the other end of the line. After a few incoherent starts, he finally spits out, “What the hell, Mr. Stark?” Amazingly, he manages to sound both outraged and completely embarrassed.

Here’s a flaw in Tony’s plan: he can’t see Peter’s face right now. He’d love to see his face right now. Probably bright red, doing that adorable thing he does when he’s embarrassed, where he won’t quite meet Tony’s eye—

(You know, it turns out letting his mind actually look at how he feels has its upsides. Like getting to dwell on that image. He should probably feel worse than he does about how much he likes it.)

“Mr. Stark?”

Oh, right. He has a very confused—and, if he’s done this right, very turned on—protégée who needs a few things explained to him right about now.

“Uh, yeah, so.” Tony clears his throat. They have to push past the awkward part if they’re going to get to the good stuff. “You know how I told you I’d turned off the Baby Monitor Protocol?”

“Yeah…” He can already hear realization dawning in Peter’s voice.

“I…didn’t turn it off of the Iron Spider.”

There’s a pause. Then a groan. “ _Oh my god_ ,” Peter gasps. He’s probably gone even redder. “Does that mean—”

“Yep.”

“Fuck.” Peter pauses, then sighs. When he starts talking again, he sounds genuinely frustrated. “I’d say sorry, except I’m pretty sure you’re the one who fucked up here, Mr. Stark. You lied to me.”

Ouch. True. Fair. One of the things Tony likes about Peter is that under the stammering and the wide-eyed devotion, he’s willing to stand up to him when he thinks it matters. But still: ouch.

“I did, and I’m sorry. Which is why I sent this gift basket. Well, gift box. To make it up to you.” Tony adds a charming smile, even though he knows Peter can’t see him. Hopefully it comes through in his voice.

Another pause. Longer this time. And then, very slowly: “Yeah, about that…”

After a few beats of silence, Tony figures Peter’s waiting for him to explain himself. “It seemed like you wanted to be adventurous. I support adventuring in this area, but as much as I salute your ingenuity, weapons don’t make the best sex toys. I thought I’d fill in the gap.”

“So you bought me a dildo?” Peter still sounds more annoyed than anything else, which is not the goal. “You know I can buy my own, right? I’m not _that_ poor.”

“Not like this one, you can’t. And I didn’t _buy_ it, I built it.” You’d think the fact that it’s Iron Man red and gold would have made that clear. “It’s very versatile. Lots of special features. Nanotech. Transforms itself. One of a kind, just for you.”

“Wait, seriously? This is a nanotech dildo?” Tony smiles to himself; he can almost see Peter turning it over in his hands, eyes gone wide, suddenly fascinated. He sounds less annoyed. “That’s pretty cool.”

“I thought so,” Tony agrees. “Did you see the other stuff?”

There’s a bit of shuffling, as if Peter is reaching back into the box. “Is this…a camera on a very small drone?”

“Very observant, Mr. Parker. Ten points to Ravenclaw.”

“I’m a Gryffindor. Why’s there a camera on a very small drone?”

 _The better to see you with, my dear_ , a dark part of Tony’s mind replies. The part that knows this is probably all a terrible idea. He doesn’t voice the joke. “I’m going to let you puzzle that one out yourself.”

“And an earpiece.” There’s more shuffling. “And…what’s this last thing? It looks like nanobot casing?”

Tony figures the best—and if he’s being honest, also flashiest, and he can’t resist a show—way of explaining that is to demonstrate. So he hits a couple of buttons on the watch he programmed for exactly this purpose. The digital projection of an Iron Man gauntlet forms around his right hand. He waves. He knows that in Peter’s dorm room, an actual armored hand has materialized out of the casing and is doing the same. “Hi.”

“Whoa.” All annoyance is gone from Peter’s voice now, replaced with pure awe. Tony feels very smug. He gives a thumbs up, then raises his hand far enough to demonstrate how it can hover and move through the air at will, because he is fucking _awesome_ at inventing things when he has the right motivation. “ _Wow_ , Mr. Stark, that’s amazing.”

“Feel it,” he encourages. The thing is metal, but smoother than normal, slightly warm. He has plans for it. Many, many plans. The projection around his hand lights up, bright orange spots where Peter is touching it. This will all be easier once Peter lets him actually use the camera, of course, but he’s learned his lesson. He’ll ask first.

“Um.” God, another pause. Peter must be completely freaking out by this point. Hopefully in a good way. “So, when you said ‘how about I let you help out next time…’?”

“I meant it very literally.”

The silence on the other end goes on for long enough that Tony’s stomach drops; for a moment he worries that he’s somehow completely misread all of this. Pushed it too far. Maybe this was the kind of fantasy that Peter wanted to keep as, well, fantasy. He hadn’t even considered that. Why hadn’t he considered that?

“If you want,” he adds. “Obviously only if you want. If not, we can pretend none of this happened. Lapse of judgement. I may be going senile in my old age.”

“No,” Peter finally replies, voice notably higher. “No. I want. I definitely want. I just…I thought you didn’t see me like this.”

“I was trying very hard not to,” Tony confesses. “Good to know I was at least able to keep up appearances.”

“Yeah, you did a great job. I honestly had no idea.” There’s more movement on the other end, and a squeak of metal on tile, as if Peter just moved a chair. Tony really hopes that’s a good sign. “What changed, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Huh. He thought that part was obvious. “The scorchingly hot invasion of privacy. That’s not the kind of image that’s easy to forget.”

There’s a quiet laugh. “We’re still going to talk about that at some point,” Peter informs him. “I’m not happy you lied to me.”

“At some point?” Tony prods, and he can’t keep the eagerness out of his voice. No reason to, really.

“Yeah, at some point that’s not now.” Peter sounds smug, pleased with himself. “Now, I’m going to hang up this phone. I assume there’s a way to call you via the drone?”

“Voice activated,” Tony confirms.

“Well then.” Peter clears his throat. “I guess I’ll call you again in a few minutes.”

***

Tony settles himself into his most comfortable desk chair, makes sure the lab is one hundred percent locked down, throws up the screen the drone camera will connect to, and waits.

It takes every ounce of willpower he has left not to touch himself. Even without, he’s harder than he can ever remember being. He’s not saying he’s actually never been this hard before. That doesn’t seem reasonable.

He’s just saying, he sure as fuck can’t remember it.

***

It’s almost ten whole minutes later that Peter finally calls. When the screen lights up, he’s sitting on his bed, propped on pillows, knees pulled up; naked, hard, already working the dildo in and out of his ass in slow, confident motions. The gauntlet casing lays next to him, a tempting invitation.

Tony would complain about missing the prep steps, but honestly, it’s worth it to get hit with this image full force. He knew Peter was ripped, but he hadn’t quite realized the impact of all that muscle in one place, lean and tight, abs glistening with precome from the cock bouncing against them. His fingers twitch with a desire to touch; his mouth is too dry to talk.

“Mr. Stark?” Okay, so audio on the drone is working well: Peter comes through crystal clear, throaty and nervous. Tony notes he’s also put in the ear piece, so he should be able to hear anything he says in reply.

“Yeah, kid, I’m here.” He sees Peter’s cock twitch. Is that from the sound of his voice? The knowledge he’s watching? Or is it a coincidence, a product of the dildo still working its way in and out? Whatever the reason, it’s fucking hot. He lets his left hand drift down to his own dick, skimming himself through his pants. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh…a little nervous, honestly.” Oh, and there’s that blush Tony had been imagining before, spreading from Peter’s cheeks down his chest. “Do you like what you see, sir? Please tell me you like what you see. Because if you don’t I might actually die of embarrassment. And then you’ll have killed Spider-Man, which would be a whole thing, and it’d be hard to explain why and—”

“Pete, calm down,” Tony cuts in, and Peter snaps his mouth shut. “Trust me, I like what I see.” God, does he like it. He likes it so much it’s a little hard to keep his mind focused. There are so many things he wants to do; he can barely put them in order. “What I see is—I mean, fuck.”

Peter lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay, good.” He smiles a little, clearly encouraged. “Is there—is there anything you want me to do differently? To make it better?”

Holy shit. Tony can’t quite suppress his groan. Of course, of _course_ the kid would be worried about making it better for him. That should not be as hot as it is.

“Wrong way around there, Pete. This is about me”—he starts up the gauntlet, watching in triumphant pleasure as Peter’s eyes go wide when it forms next to him—“making things better for _you._ ”

Tony lifts his hand, using the image on the screen to guide him as he moves the gauntlet toward Peter. Once he’s close enough he splays his hand across Peter’s chest, pressing down. The whole thing works perfectly, imitating his movements, even sending him feedback, a slight electric tingle sparking across his real fingers when the metal touches skin. Not enough to simulate the feel of caressing someone, of course—though he’s already started thinking about how to make that work, because if this becomes a repeated exercise, he’s going to want a more interactive experience—but at least enough that he won’t accidentally hit anything he doesn’t mean to.

On the screen, Peter is watching the gauntlet with a kind of hunger. The hand around the dildo has slowed down, as if he’s too distracted to keep it moving. Tony has a solution for that, but he thinks maybe he should take it one step at a time. Experimentally, he brushes the metal thumb over Peter’s left nipple, and is pleased to be rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and that gorgeous cock jumping again. He repeats the movement, and Peter bucks upward with a soft “fuck.”

“You like that?” Tony asks, and is met with frantic nodding. “Good.” Amused, he moves to the other nipple. Tentatively, very carefully, he squeezes, and Peter moans, eyes rolling back for a second. Jesus. “This thing isn’t too weird? I realize the whole disembodied metal hand thing isn’t everyone’s top fantasy.”

Tony didn’t think it was possible for Peter to get more red, but somehow he does. “I—”

His words cut off when Tony squeezes his nipple again, so Tony moves on, letting the gauntlet skim down his side and across his abs, drinking in the way his muscles tense wherever he’s touched. “You were saying?”

“It kind of is for me, actually. The hand. A fantasy.”

“Oh?” Tony hadn’t expected that. He presses down on his own dick. He thinks he likes where this is going. “Expand on that thought.”

Peter lifts his eyes to the camera, which has zoomed a little closer, to get a better look at his face. Tony stops moving the gauntlet, in an attempt not to distract him.

“Well, not the disembodied part.” Peter’s voice trembles, as if he’s still a little nervous, but he has a determined expression. He’s committed to finishing the thought. “But the Iron Man suit, yeah.” His eyes flick back down to observe the gauntlet. “I mean, it’s this awesome thing, and _you_ made it, and it’s strong and beautiful and—” He bites his lip. “Sorry, is that weird?”

Tony is now fully gripping himself through his pants, so turned on his toes are literally curling, which is almost silly. He lets some of that drip off his voice as he replies, “Kid, that might be the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Peter gasps and bucks; Tony is starting to get a feeling it’s the sound of his voice that does it. Or maybe compliments specifically. Either one he can definitely, definitely work with. Getting himself under control enough to put his focus back on Peter, he starts moving the gauntlet again, tracing up his neck and to his hair. He carefully grabs a few strands and tugs. Peter squeals—there’s no other word for it—leaning into the touch.  

“God, everything about you is sexy,” Tony tells him, pulling harder. Peter’s hand falls away from the dildo with a whimper, fingers clutching at the sheets on either side of him instead.

Okay, now might be the time to show off some of his other tricks. A small twitch of Tony’s finger is all it takes to get the dildo thrusting on its own.

“ _What_?” Peter gasps, back arching. “That’s— _fuck_ , that’s amazing.”

Tony chuckles, keeping his remote grip on Peter’s hair tight. “Do you mean, ‘fuck, that feels amazing,’ or ‘fuck, that’s an amazing piece of technology’?”

“Both.” Peter’s entire stomach is smeared with precome; he arches more, dick red and throbbing. “Definitely both.”

“Right answer,” Tony says approvingly, and _god_ , yep, Peter definitely likes praise: he squirms and thrusts, eyes flying shut. “So, senses dialed to eleven. How does that work in this context?”

“Um, I—” Peter is clearly having a hard time concentrating on answering the question, which probably isn’t helped by Tony thrusting the dildo harder. Amused, Tony makes another move that—if all goes well—should turn the thing ribbed. Apparently it works, because Peter’s voice catches. “You’re a genius,” he forces out between heavy breaths.

“Senses,” Tony repeats. With his left hand, he pulls his zipper down, working himself free. Now he’s sure: he’s definitely, _definitely_ never been this hard. He grips himself. “Tell me about that. I’m curious.”

“Everything is overwhelming,” Peter says between gasps. Tony slows the pounding down a little to give him space to talk. “Like, more than for a normal person. I think. Pretty sure. My— _fuck_ , Mr. Stark, _wow_ ”—that was because Tony, feeling playful, had made the dildo just a little longer, bigger—“every fucking nerve is on fire. I feel so, so close. But”—Peter’s eyes squeeze tighter—“it’s really, really hard to actually come.”

Ah. Interesting. Very interesting. “Is that why you got the waldoes involved?” Peter nods. “Well, let’s see what I can do to help. You seem to like this, right?” he asks, tugging at Peter’s hair. Another frantic nod. “Okay, let’s keep it there. But I want you to touch yourself.”

Tony doesn’t add that while the idea of wrapping the gauntlet around Peter’s dick is very tempting—the thought alone makes his own dick throb, spurting precome—he’s slightly worried about what would happen if that particular maneuver went wrong. Besides, he loves the way Peter races to follow his instructions, wrapping his hand around himself.

“Very good,” Tony tells him; that wrenches something resembling a sob out of Peter, his entire body shuddering. “Now, I want you to stroke yourself, slowly.”

Peter does as he’s told, hand drifting up and down; by contrast, Tony makes the dildo go faster. He knows from experience that conflicting rhythms can be very effective. It certainly seems to work on Peter, who’s soon panting louder than ever, head thrown back, his free hand clutching his sheets so hard it’s a miracle they haven’t ripped.

“Good boy,” Tony whispers, and Peter whines, gripping himself tighter. “God, I want to fuck you. Do you want that?”

“Yes.” Peter sounds broken. “Please, Mr. Stark, _please._ Any time. Any place. You have no idea how much I want you.”

“Kid, I think I have some idea.” Peter might have a hard time coming, but Tony’s right on the edge; the only thing keeping him from spilling over it is being distracted by the screen in front of him. “I literally do not remember the last time I was this turned on.”

Peter whimpers and starts rubbing himself faster. “Really?” he asks and—oh. Oh, he really likes that idea. Very obviously. Yeah, okay.

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Next time, I’ll make the visual feed two ways. But in the meantime—” He releases Peter’s hair, moving his right hand to his own dick and beginning to stroke.

Peter opens his eyes to follow the movement. Given the relative position of everything, the gauntlet ends up floating in midair off to the side of him, which is objectively pretty silly, but based on the way Peter can’t seem take his eyes off of it, he apparently doesn’t mind. Tony makes the dildo go even harder, and then, for good measure, dials it thicker, too. Peter gasps in approval.

“Kid, I would kill to be in that room with you right now,” Tony says, and it comes out barely more than a groan. “Touch yourself faster. As fast as you want.” Peter follows the instruction, hand working furiously, grasp tight—tighter than Tony would have thought comfortable, which is information he files away for the future. His own hand works faster, too, the gauntlet on the screen an odd, floating imitation of his lust. “God, I want to feel your dick in my hand.”

This instinct seems to be working: Peter is sweat-covered and trembling, toes curling, hips bucking, moans coming higher and louder.

Tony keeps going. “You like the suit? Peter, I’ll fuck you in the suit. I’ll hold you down and fuck you until you’re _begging_ to come.”

“Oh my god, Mr. Stark, _yes_ , please, sir, _please_.” Peter keeps thrusting and working himself, the dildo flying in and out of him, babbling Tony’s name. Wow, he loves hearing that, feels it twisting and tugging at something deep inside of him, pressure mounting until he can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck, kid, I love it when you call me that, I fucking—Fuck, I’m gonna—” His hand works even faster until his orgasm crashes over him in waves. “ _Fuck_.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter cries, following him, come splattering over his chin and face. He moans and yelps as the dildo continues to push into him, until Tony scrambles to turn it off. He pulls it out of himself and collapses backwards onto the bed, eyes closed, looking entirely exhausted. His hair is a mess, sticking every which way, and Tony has to resist the urge to use the gauntlet to smooth it. That feels like too much. It’s supposed to be a sex toy, not a feelings toy.

“You okay?” Tony asks after it feels like the silence has gone on long enough. “That too much?”

Peter shakes his head, smiling a little. “If anything, too little,” he murmurs.

“Too little,” Tony repeats, incredulous, tucking himself back into his pants. “My amazing flying gauntlet and self-fucking dildo are _too little_?”

Peter slits his eyes open. He stares straight into the camera with a shrug. “What can I say? I’m selfish. I actually do want the whole suit.” His smile transforms into a smirk. “And you inside it.”

Tony laughs. Well, fuck. He’s in this now. “I’ve created a monster,” he says. “Fine. I’ll see if I can’t arrange a trip to MIT in the near future.”

Even though he was the one who asked for it, Peter’s eyes go wide and amazed, as if he hadn’t really expected Tony to follow through. “Wait, really? _Awesome_.”

Well, at least he hasn’t noticed how totally he has Tony wrapped around his finger. Yet. He’s smart. He’ll probably figure it out soon. And then Tony really will be fucked. He’s not going to be able to say no to anything.

But for now, he smiles and confirms, “Yes, really. In the meantime, no more dangerous weapons as sex toys. And if you need any further assistance…”

“I know who to call,” Peter finishes for him, stretching and then snuggling down into his bed. He looks ready for a nap.

“Exactly.”

Tony cuts off the feed with a wave of his hand. Yeah, he’s well and truly fucked, and he is going to love every second of it.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feedback is deeply loved and appreciated.


End file.
